


Burnt

by Anonymous



Series: Shingo's Uphill Battle [1]
Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Angst, Art, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Trauma, Yikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Under a black sky late into the night, a boy sat huddled in the corner between a dumpster and a concrete wall. His prone form lay hidden beneath a pile of newspapers that rustled as he quivered and shook."Shingo faces an enemy he doesn't know how to fight.
Series: Shingo's Uphill Battle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637239
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Shingo is a precious boy who does not deserve this.
> 
> Tags and characters will be added as they appear (more or less). I don't really have a plan for this and who knows when I'll finish.

Under a black sky late into the night, a boy sat huddled in the corner between a dumpster and a concrete wall. His prone form lay hidden beneath a pile of newspapers that rustled as he quivered and shook. 

He, Shingo Yabuki, Kyo Kusanagi’s number-one disciple, was overpowered by a pack of common street thugs. 

The mere thought of what happened filled him with rage. Not towards them, but towards himself. For letting them win. For disgracing Kyo Kusanagi. 

Thousands of other emotions filled him too. They flooded his heart to the point of bursting. Feelings he didn’t have words for threatened to spill out if he so much as breathed wrong. 

What happened—what he _let_ happen—played in his head over and over again, bringing his heart ever closer to capacity. The flood became a raging storm, beating against his chest. Everything on top of everything overwhelmed him. His body refused to move. His widened eyes stared blankly at his knees. He wanted to cry, scream, die-

He wanted someone to find him. To pick him up, take him home, give him a warm bath, and tuck him into bed. He wanted his mother’s kind hugs. He wanted Kyo to tell him “it’s alright, it’s not your fault.” 

But he didn’t want them to see him like this. 

Beaten, weak, scared. 

His shaking hands clutched his phone between his chest and knees. He needed to call someone. In that state, he couldn’t make it home on his own. Even so, he couldn’t. If anyone saw the state he was in, they would ask about what happened. If he only lost a street fight, that was one thing. But there was something else. 

Thoughts of his loved ones’ faces once they realized what he allowed to happen made him sick. The self-hatred, fear, and disgust within suddenly doubled and tears began dripping from his eyes. 

Shingo couldn’t face them. He couldn’t.

“Mrowr!”

A sudden meow broke Shingo out of his cyclic trance. Through a crack in the newspaper blanketing him, he could see a black cat pawing at the edges. 

Shingo raised an arm to dislodge the newspaper. The cat didn’t seem bothered, which he felt thankful for.

“Hey kitty,” he whispered, reaching out a hand for the cat to sniff. When the cat was satisfied, it rubbed its head against him, purring. Shingo gave a little chuckle and scratched it behind the ears. 

“Hey, I brought dinner.” 

Someone called out from the end of the alleyway, startling Shingo again. He recognized the voice and his stomach dropped. 

“Meow!”

“Oh? Did you find something?”

“Meow!”

While the little black cat sat unperturbed, Shingo tried to make himself as small as possible. Of all the people he didn’t want to find him-

“You’re… Kyo’s disciple?”

-Iori Yagami was the first person on his list. 

“You, where’s Kyo?”

Shingo hoped that if he ignored Yagami, he’d go away. But he also knew how dumb that was. 

“Oi!” Shingo flinched at the shout, “Where is he?!”

Yagami snatched one of Shingo’s arms, which were wrapped protectively around his knees, and yanked him up. Though he readied a yell, it died in his throat the moment he saw Shingo’s face. 

His eyes were swollen from tears, he was covered in bruises, and flakes of dried _something_ were peeling off his face and hair. 

Shingo looked _terrified_. Yagami knew the kid feared him, but his intense shaking went beyond a normal fear. 

When Yagami leaned in for a closer look, he suddenly realized what that unknown substance was, putting two and two together. 

“You need a hospital.”

Shingo’s eyes widened further. Then he started struggling against Yagami’s death grip.

“No! I can’t!” 

As he jerked and pulled, Yagami only stared.

"If I go," Hot tears trailed down Shingo's cheeks, "My parents will find out, and I can't-" 

Shingo's words were cut off by his own harsh sobbing. If his parents found out, they'd call the police and he couldn't…

Again, Yagami stared, neutral expression unchanging. He let go of Shingo's arm and stepped away. Doing that drew Shingo's attention, and he watched Yagami grab a milk carton and pour it into a shallow dish. The cat plodded over to drink, nuzzling against Yagami's leg as it passed. Bearing witness to Yagami being gentle abated his tears slightly. Watching the cat drink, too, warmed his heart a little. 

Fear and dread overtook him again when Yagami stood. It didn't help that he had an imposing figure amplified by a dark trenchcoat. From beneath his bright red bangs, he looked down at Shingo, expression still neutral.

"Let's go."

Shingo shook his head wildly, tears flinging off his face.

"Not to the hospital, to my place."

After taking a moment to understand what he just heard, Shingo looked up in awe. With a croaky voice, he whispered, "Why?"

Yagami's demeanor still did not change. "If you squat here, the police will show up. And you need a shower."

He was right and Shingo knew it. He knew, but the prospect of going to Yagami's house made him anxious. Then again, a shower sounded nice.

"O-okay."

As he stood, Shingo became acutely aware of a stabbing pain shooting up his backside and it nearly drove him to the ground. It wasn't new, but he sat for so long it faded into the back of his mind. Standing became a struggle, but he eventually got to his feet. 

Yagami stood by, moving only when Shingo demonstrated he could walk on his own. He snatched up his bass and led Shingo out of the alley, careful to keep his pace slow while taking the least populated roads.

As they went, Shingo focused his energy on walking. His eyes stayed glued to Yagami's back, not taking notice of their surroundings or route. Each step brought another wave of pain, a reminder of what happened, so he fought to keep his mind elsewhere. Fortunately or unfortunately, he became more and more aware of how tired he was which soon preoccupied his thoughts.

“Here.” 

Yagami’s sudden stop brought Shingo back into reality. They were standing in an alleyway in front of a plain metal door. When Yagami opened it, he stepped in and descended a concrete staircase, clearly expecting Shingo to follow after. However, Shingo hesitated at the top of the steps. Looking at the cramped walls instilled a sense of claustrophobia; he didn’t want to get down there only to find he couldn’t get out easily. But why would Yagami invite him in only to beat him up? Even for a man that volatile, it seemed ridiculous. 

But what if he wanted something else from him?

Shingo’s knees went weak, bringing him dangerously close to collapsing. He couldn’t deal with anything else, not today.

“Are you going to take a shower or are you going home like that?”

At the bottom of the staircase, Yagami held the door open. He looked at Shingo expectantly. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” Shingo rushed down and inside, nearly tripping over his own feet. 

For a flashy rocker, Yagami’s home was practically empty. On the opposite end of the room beneath the basement window sat a simple, metal-framed bed with a single pillow and blanket laying on a worn mattress. A few steps away from it was a single table covered in sheet music with a stool next to it. Against the left wall was a set of shelves holding a handful of books and CDs. Further along that wall was another metal door. Next to it was a hair product-laden sink with a shattered mirror hung above it. The only “decoration” Shingo could see was a few band posters, a dartboard, and _is that a picture of Kyo in the middle_ \- _?_

That train of thought broke when Shingo heard the door _click_ close. The sudden realization that he was trapped in this concrete _prison_ with Yagami suddenly set him on edge. His heart quickened. He couldn’t breathe. He hugged himself, desperate for comfort. But he needed to get out.

“Shower’s over there. There’s only one towel, but you can use it. If you use too much soap, I’ll pull it out of your scalp.” 

If Yagami noticed Shingo panicking, he ignored it. Instead, he set his bass by the shelf then flopped down on his bed. 

Somehow, despite the threat, Yagami’s nonchalant attitude helped Shingo calm down. In a weird way, it made Shingo feel safer, like he was going to be okay. 

Before entering the shower, Shingo gave a little bow and said, “Thank you.”

Yagami didn’t look at him. “Mm.” 

The shower was even more bare than the main room. Other than a toilet and shower, there wasn’t anything else to speak of. 

Shingo started the water. He watched it for a moment, like he had seen a shower for the first time in a long time. When steam started to fill the room, Shingo broke from his trance and peeled his clothes off. 

He was thankful for the lack of a mirror. 

Stepping into the shower sent Shingo straight into a daze. It felt nice and warm and comforting, enough to make him almost forget. Almost.

When he looked down, he remembered. Suddenly and vividly.

Those words written in permanent marker on his thighs, his abdomen, his chest wouldn’t let him forget.

_Whore._

_Cumdump._

_Public toilet._

_Onahole._

There were more. Ones he couldn’t see. 

The sick, horrible, _disgusting_ feeling that had been brewing before returned.

Then, he _snapped_. 

“AAAAHHH!”

Shingo collapsed onto the hard concrete. He screamed in between sobs. His quaking hands tore at his skin. 

_Aww, the little disciple’s crying!_

_Don’t you feel good?_

_Look at how easily my dick slides in! You’re a natural slut!_

_Tell us who you are._

“I’m-I’m Mr. Kusanagi’s disciple…”

_No, you’re a whore._

_Say it!_

_SAY IT!_

“I’m a-a wh-whore…”

_Like you mean it!_

“I’M A WHORE!”

_Haha, you’re so pathetic._

_‘Mister Kusanagi’ isn’t going to want you anymore._

_Maybe if you beg and suck his dick he’ll take you back._

“No, he’s not-Mr. Kusanagi’s not-”

_KNOCK KNOCK_

“When you’re finished, there’s a clean pair of clothes by the door.”

_Oh. Right. Shower._

“Thank-thank you…”

If Yagami replied, he couldn’t hear it. 

After his… episode, Shingo could barely hold the bottle of body wash. Still, he managed, scrubbing down his entire body, paying special attention to his private areas. 

He wanted to scrub off all his skin ‘til he couldn’t feel those lingering touches, but the water began to cool and he already wasted enough of Yagami’s time.

Once he dried off, Shingo cracked open the door and snatched up the clean clothes Yagami left him. The outfit was definitely some of Yagami’s tamer clothes: a pair of boxers, black jeans, and a white V-neck T-shirt with a gray gradient. Shingo felt weird about wearing another guy’s boxers, but he didn’t want to touch his either. The whole ensemble fit well, even if the pants were a little long. 

When Shingo stepped out of the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand, Yagami stood leaning against the wall beside the entrance. 

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Yagami didn’t say where they were going, just that it wasn’t the police or the hospital. Maybe he was taking Shingo home? He didn’t know. 

He opened his mouth several times to ask, but the silence around them weighed heavily on Shingo and he decided against it. If Yagami didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t. 

They walked for a little over ten minutes before reaching a small park in the midst of some residential buildings. Yagami immediately leaned against a nearby tree to wait. Unsure what else to do, Shingo sat on one of the swings and stared at the pile of dirty clothes on his lap. 

Did Yagami call someone? Shingo hoped not. Well, unless it was his mom. Despite his conflicting feelings, Shingo wanted to see her more than anyone else. As long as she never found out.

The hum of a motorcycle disrupted the silence, soon growing into a roar. The moment it came into view, the speeding vehicle came to a screeching halt. Its rider dismounted in a hurry, tossing his helmet aside as he ran.

Shingo’s heart stopped.

“Shingo!”

 _Mr. Kusanagi_.

He gripped the ropes of the swing like a lifeline. 

_It’s okay, it’s not like he knows what happened._

While he tried to pretend he didn’t exist, Kyo rushed towards him. He skidded to a stop then grabbed Shingo by the shoulders. Shingo jumped with a squeak. 

Kyo’s looked more worried than Shingo had ever seen him.

“Shingo, are you alright?! What happened!?” 

Even though he wanted to run and hide, Shingo tried to give Kyo a bright smile.

“I’m-I’m okay! There were-there were some-some thugs, they roughed me up a-a little.” 

With his quivering lip and shaking voice, Shingo could tell he wasn’t very convincing.

Kyo’s expression turned serious, almost angry. 

“That’s not what Yagami told me.” 

_Huh?_

“Shingo, tell me the truth.

“Were you raped?”

_Oh. He knew._

Shingo froze. His mind couldn’t process what he heard. The implications. 

His heartbeat throbbed in his skull. Sound wouldn’t come out. Air wouldn’t come in.

Darkness seeped into the edges of his vision. 

He needed out. Now. 

Shingo shoved Kyo. His feet ground against the asphalt. He ran, huffing and gasping. 

Something caught his arm. Everything blurred to the point he couldn’t tell who or what. He tried pulling away. 

In between breaths (screams?), Shingo fell. His heartbeat spiked. The darkness grew.

He blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God oh man oh God oh man.
> 
> I dunno where I'm going with this. Well, I kinda do, but not the specifics.
> 
> Lemme know if I should bump this up to explicit. Also, reminder: this is a work of fiction. Don't take it too personally.
> 
> Please forgive me Shingo.


	2. Interlude - Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phone call between Iori and Kyo while Shingo was in the shower.

When Yagami heard the bathroom door close, he dismounted his bed and went to file through his clothes. Most of his outfits were specially made for band performances, but he did own a handful of casual outfits for off days. He put together an outfit then decided to grab a pair of clean boxers as well. 

After dropping the clothes by the bathroom door, Yagami slid his phone out of his pocket and flipped through his contacts. Few people had the privilege of knowing Iori Yagami's phone number, so it didn't take long to find the one labeled "Bastard." 

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

He hung up before it went to voicemail and tried again. It took another three tries before anyone picked up.

"What the hell Yagami, it's one in the morning."

Kyo Kusanagi sounded tired and angry. Yagami wanted to laugh, to relish it, but there were more important matters at hand. 

“I have your disciple.” 

He heard Kyo sigh over the line, “Seriously, you’re resorting to kidnapping now? What happened to your weird code of honor?”

Yagami scowled. “Hmph, ridiculous! I don’t need to use blackmail to kill you.”

“Then what the hell are you calling me for?!” 

Despite Kyo’s impatience, Yagami regained his composure. “Your disciple, I found him in an alley. He’d been raped.”

The phone went silent for several moments. 

“...What?”

Kyo finally broke the silence with a disbelieving whisper.

“You can’t be-”

Anguished screams sounded from the bathroom, loud enough that even Kyo could hear.

“Hold on.” Yagami paused to see if Shingo’s wailing would ease. When it didn’t, he knocked, saying, “When you’re finished, there’s a clean pair of clothes by the door.”

The sobs came to a halt. A moment later, Yagami heard a tiny “Thank-thank you.”

He turned his focus back to the phone.

“...Was that Shingo?”

“Yeah.”

Kyo muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Did you take him to the hospital? Did you call the police?”

“No.”

“ _ What?! _ Why not!?”

“He didn’t want me to.” 

Something made a slamming noise on Kyo’s end. “Then you should have dragged him there!! What if he has an STD?!”

Yagami remained unperturbed. “It was his decision. I only offered my shower.”

“Dammit Yagami!” The anger radiating from the speakers was nearly tangible, “How are we supposed to track down the bastards who did this?!”

“Give it time; those roaches will out themselves. In any case, I want you to pick him up. Meet us at the park near X station.”

“Yagami-” He hung up before Kyo could finish.

Shortly after, Shingo finished his shower and they left for the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was short, I was able to write it fairly quickly. The real chapter 2 is in progress.
> 
> I imagine Iori has Kyo's phone number from previous KOFs and the times they had to seal Orochi. The only other people in his contacts are probably the people in his band. Maybe the little sister who supposedly exists.


	3. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shingo just wants to go home. Kyo tries to help and realizes he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear Our Prayer by Yuki Kajiura and Fluctuation from the Noragami OST ft. Memento Mori from Death Parade drove me to get this done.
> 
> Also, I was inspired to draw! That's new. It's just a sketch though.

_It happened when I got lost._

_My head was buried in my notebook, so I didn’t notice my turn. By the time I realized my mistake, I already walked into a shady part of town. One lit by neon signs and decorated with risque posters._

_The second I realized it, I meant to turn and run out of there. But I heard a woman screaming._

_She needed help and I could save her._

_In an alleyway, a group of thugs, about five of them, were dragging this woman into a building. She kicked and fought, but I could tell from her movements she was drunk. Or drugged._

_“Shingo Kiiiick!”_

_I hit one of the thugs in the chest with my signature move, knocking him to the ground. Before anyone else could respond, I started swinging. One punch hit the thug holding the woman square in the face. Another caught a different thug in the jaw. Both crashed to the ground._

_The remaining two released the woman, who immediately stumbled out of the alley, to focus on me. Their stances were sloppy, their jabs easy to dodge. Guys like these were_ nothing _compared to what I faced in KOF._

_For the first, I dodged a punch then brought him down with a low kick. While he was down, I jumped in the air, bringing my knee to his buddy’s face hard. My instincts told me someone approached from behind, so I dug my elbow into his gut and whirled around with a high kick. He went flying into the wall._

_I surveyed the scene around me. All the thugs were knocked out._

_“Hehe! Shingo Yabuki saves the day!”_

_While I celebrated with a victory pose, I didn’t notice the crackling of a stun gun. When it lodged into my leg, my muscles froze, driving me to the ground. My head slammed against the concrete. I blacked out._

_When I woke up, I was in Hell._

_I remember hands all over me._

_Touching intimate places._

_It hurt._

_It hurt so much._

_I’m scared._

_Somebody, please help me._

_Mr. Kusanagi, please._

_“Why would I help someone as dirty as you?”_

_Mr. Kusanagi was looking at me with disgust._

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t look at me like that, please-_

“Shingo!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Shingo! Wake up!” 

Shingo’s eyes flew open. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders. He panicked, pushing the hands away and scrambling out of the futon. When he reached the corner of the room, he curled up against the wall. His eyes roved wildly about his unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Hey, Shingo!” 

Next to the empty futon kneeled Kyo Kusanagi. His eyes were full of worry.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” 

Shingo stared at him wide-eyed. Seeing Shingo’s fearful expression reminded Kyo of his hatred for the men who did this, who would hurt someone as kind and innocent as Shingo. But, that wouldn’t help. For now. 

Kyo gestured to a tray next to him, “Mom made breakfast earlier. It’s a little cold, but it’s probably still good.” 

“...Do they know?”

It took Kyo a moment to understand what he meant. When he understood, he sighed, “No, I haven’t told them yet.”

“...Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell them,” Shingo’s voice cracked, “please.”

Kyo watched him bury his face back into his knees before responding, “Alright, I won’t.” He stood and made his way to the door. “Go ahead and eat. When you’re done, we’re going to the hospital.”

With a shout, Shingo jumped up then tripped over Yagami’s long jeans, crashing down onto the tatami floor. After a moment spent quivering there, he lifted his head to whisper, “ _I can’t._ ”

Silence fell over the room. The only sounds were Shingo’s shaky breaths catching in his throat. Since his eyes were fixed on the floor, Kyo could only imagine the look on his face. The mere thought made his heart tighten. 

“Look… You need to see a doctor. What if those guys gave you an STD?” 

Shingo shook his head. 

“I promise they won’t call your parents or the police, okay?” 

He kept shaking his head. “...Just...Just wanna go home…”

Hearing that and seeing Shingo in such a state filled Kyo with conflicting feelings. On the one hand, the kid needed medical attention. On the other, it didn’t seem like a hospital would help him emotionally. Still, it would be better long-term. 

A loud sniffle broke Kyo’s train of thought. He focused on Shingo again, on the way he clenched his fists, on how his body trembled. Maybe the hospital could wait, just for a few days.

Sighing, Kyo ran a hand through his parted hair before saying, “Alright, I’ll take you home. At least eat something before we go.”

Shingo paused. His breathing and shaking ceased for a moment. Then, an inch at a time, he sat up, resting on his legs. He continued staring at the floor with bloodshot eyes.

The fact Kyo couldn’t read Shingo’s expression unsettled him deeply. Boisterous, cheerful, expressive Shingo, now blank. It shouldn’t happen, not ever.

Kyo shook himself from his thoughts and brought the breakfast tray over to Shingo. “C’mon, you need to eat.” 

The breakfast tray held a wide spread of dishes common in traditional Japanese breakfasts: fish, miso soup, rice, everything. Shingo went directly to the rice, eating it in small bites at a time with chopsticks. When it was half-finished, he stopped and set the chopsticks to the side.

“You not gonna eat anything else?” 

“...I’m not hungry.”

On a normal day, Shingo would have devoured the entire tray and asked for seconds. For now, Kyo decided not to push it.

“Let’s get you home.”

* * *

The trip back to the Yabuki household was long and quiet. Shingo refused to go back on Kyo’s motorcycle, so the two had to wait for the hourly bus to take them to the nearest train station. The entire train ride, Shingo stared empty-eyed at his hands resting in his lap and Kyo silently cursed the remoteness of his house.

A few subway connections later, they reached Shingo’s house. It was an ordinary two-story house nestled between other ordinary houses, tinted orange by the sunset. On the porch by the door hung a nameplate that read “Yabuki.” A four-door car was parked on the curb of the narrow street. 

They stood there for a while, waiting for something to break the silence. Kyo spoke first.

“I called your mom this morning. She knows you spent the night, but I didn’t tell her anything else.”

Shingo folded his arms tightly around his stomach.

“I’m gonna hold on to your dirty clothes. If you ever change your mind about going to the police, let me know.” 

Shingo’s brow furrowed slightly. 

“Do you want me to knock?”

After a few moments of shrinking in on himself, Shingo nodded.

“Alright.” Kyo strode up to the door and rapped his knuckles against the dark wood. A few seconds later, the door flew open, missing Kyo by an inch. 

In the doorway stood Mrs. Yabuki, beset with worry.

“Kyo! There you are! Is everything alright? How’s my Shingo?!”

“He’s right here, ma’am.” He stepped aside to let her see Shingo.

Seeing him gave her pause. Anyone could tell something was off after all, but as his mother, she had never seen him quite like this; quivering shoulders, shifting eyes, a tight expression… Not to mention the foreign outfit.

“Shingo? Honey?” Mrs. Yabuki took a few tentative steps forward. “What’s the matter?”

At first, he did not respond. Then suddenly, a flood of tears poured out of his eyes.

“Mo-mom…!”

Mrs. Yabuki’s eyes widened with shock, but her expression softened back into that of a mother’s worry for her child. She held her arms open, inviting him into an embrace. “Shingo…”

He fell into her arms, burying his head into her shoulder. 

“Uhh, guh, mom! Ahh!” Shingo’s wails echoed throughout the neighborhood.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mrs. Yabuki rubbed small circles into his back and rocked him gently. “Everything’s going to be alright. Mommy’s got you.”

Shingo started crying louder, “Ahhh! Mom! Mom…!”

Still on the porch, Kyo watched the scene. He felt his heart tighten with each distressed howl. There was nothing he could do to help. He couldn’t comfort Shingo or make him forget what happened. It didn’t matter that he was heir to the Kusanagi clan or the King of Fighters. He failed to protect a friend when he needed it the most. Now, Shingo would have to struggle with this experience for the rest of his life.

_Dammit! If I can’t protect anyone, what’s the point?! What are these flames for!?_

It took ten minutes for Shingo to calm down enough for Mrs. Yabuki to herd him inside. Though Shingo wouldn’t meet his eyes, Mrs. Yabuki turned to Kyo to thank him for bringing him back. 

With a nod, Kyo took his leave. As he walked, he turned his face to the fiery sunset dipping into the horizon. His teeth ground together and he clenched his fists. A terrifying rage blazed inside him, heating his blood to a boil.

_I’m gonna find the bastards that did this and turn them into ashes._

* * *

Shingo stared at his bedroom door. Yesterday morning, the last time he’d been inside, seemed so far away. The thought of seeing his room again made him anxious, but he couldn’t understand why. Maybe it was dichotomy of the situation. Him, fresh out of the bath, clad in soft, baby blue pajamas sleeping in his room surrounded by figures and collectibles… That was for the _naive, weak, and stupid_ Shingo. 

He remembered visiting Chizuru Kagura in the hospital. While he was there, Mai Shiranui also visited. She teased him, calling Chizuru his girlfriend. 

Whenever he blushed, Mai laughed, “Oh Shingo, you’re so pure!”

That wasn’t him anymore. 

Going into his room to be encircled by reminders of a simpler time, _of a simpler Shingo_ , scared him. But, he didn’t have a choice.

With shivering hands, he turned the doorknob and stepped into his room. Everything was as he left it, save for a handful of missing dirty clothes and a pile of notes left by a classmate from school. 

_Oh yeah… I missed school today._

Shingo felt like he’d been trapped in someone else’s body. Every moment, old memories surfaced in his mind as if he was watching reruns on a battered TV. 

Looking around his room made the feeling worse. It was crammed full with childish things. He scanned the dozens of action figures he’d collected since childhood, pausing on a special Japan Team set featuring Mr. Kusanagi, Mr. Benimaru, Mr. Daimon, and himself. Getting a figure was probably one of the greatest accomplishments of his life. Now, he didn’t deserve it. 

_I never deserved it…_

Shingo tore his gaze away and shut the lights off. Despite having done nothing the entire day, he felt exhausted. Maybe with sleep, he can forget everything and move on. 

The second he flopped onto his bed, his mind wandered against his will. 

_I cried in front of Mr. Kusanagi._

_He knows. He knows how dirty and_ **_weak_ ** _I am._

Shingo felt the tears welling up in his eyes and berated himself.

_Idiot! All you’ve done is cry! Get over yourself! It’s your fault, so what are you crying about?! You’re being a burden to Mr. Kusanagi and mom!_

He looked at the rope burns on his wrist.

_That’s what you deserve._

Next to his pillow, pushed up against the wall, he saw Karate Bear. It was a gift from his mother when he was in grade school. Even though he outgrew it, Shingo wasn’t one to throw away sentimental things. Now, he was glad he didn’t.

He snatched the stuffed animal and drew it close to his chest. A sob caught in his throat.

_You deserved it._

Shingo hoped sleep would make it all stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of doing homework, whoops. On top of that, I've gotten so emotionally invested in my own work, I drew something, hot diggity dang. Drapery? What is that???
> 
> For all of the goofy shenanigans between Kyo and Shingo in KOF, you do get the sense that, at some point, Kyo started to care for Shingo as a friend.  
> Getting into Shingo's head without getting off-track has probably been the most difficult thing for me. I like to write stream-of-consciousness type stuff, but sometimes it gets out of control.


	4. Abnormalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shingo goes to school. It doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. School was hectic and it just ended, so I've finally had time to work on this.

_A pale light flickered above me. It cast its dim light over the concrete walls of the alleyway. Beyond the light was nothing. Only a dark, endless void._

_In front of me was a door. My only way forward. I felt afraid, but my hands moved with conviction, taking the cold metal knob and turning it. The creaking of the hinges echoed throughout the nothingness as I pushed the door open. I stepped inside._

_There was a staircase leading down into more darkness. As the buzzing of the streetlight grew more distant, my footsteps grew louder. Or was that my heartbeat?_

_When I descended so far the light no longer reached me, the stairs came to an end. Silence and darkness enveloped me completely. In it, I heard the rushing of blood in my ears, like a roaring river._

_Several feet in front of me, a small flame sparked to life. It spread outward, illuminating a figure behind it._

_“Mr. Kusanagi…?”_

_He tilted his head back, glaring at me down the bridge of his nose. None of the fire’s light reflected off his eyes._

_“The hell do you think you’re doing here, huh?”_

_Where here was or why I was there, I didn’t know either. I opened my mouth to answer anyway. Before I could, another voice spoke, “We already know, don’t we?”_

_The fire spread enough for me to see the outline of Benimaru Nikaido, casually standing off to the left. His pearly white teeth shone in the dim light, revealing a cold sneer._

_“He wishes to prove himself.” To the right, I heard Daimon’s voice. He, too, became visible behind the growing flames, glaring in disapproval._

_Kyo scoffed. He stepped forward, stopping in the middle of the wall of fire. “Is that so?”_

_I wanted to say yes, but the muscles in my throat constricted. I couldn’t speak._

_“Go on then,” Kyo’s face twisted into a nasty expression, one filled with disdain, “Prove yourself.”_

_Suddenly, something brushed against my ankle. With a shout, I kicked it away._

_It was a snake._

_No… Snakes. Hundreds covered the floor, slithering about in one giant mass._

_They closed in on me. I took a step back, but there were still more snakes. I couldn’t get away._

_One curled around my leg, sliding up beneath my pants. I tried to pull away, but the snakes had hold of my feet, tripping me. The ocean of snakes rushed to cover me, wrapping around me, sliding under my clothes._

_The snakes started touching places they shouldn’t and I screamed, “Mr. Kusanagi, help me!”_

_Kyo’s hateful expression faded into… Disinterest. He turned away from me, the flames leaping to the ceiling to hide his exit._

_“Mr. Kusanagi! **Mr. Kusanagi!!!** ”_

“AAAAHH!!” 

Shingo woke with a start, gasping for air. Sweat covered his body and soaked his pajamas. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, until he realized where he was, what had happened.

_A nightmare…_

He breathed a sigh of relief before turning to his alarm clock. In red block letters, it read “4:08 A.M.” On most days, he’d wake up right at 5:30, go on a run, then come back for breakfast. It was a refreshing start to his day, something he loved doing. But right now, looking at his clock, he didn’t feel like doing it. He didn’t feel like doing anything. Yet, he needed to do something.

He watched the minutes tick by. His mind was still racing from that dream, so he couldn’t go back to sleep. Finally, at 4:15, he swung his legs off the bed and stood. He took his blue tracksuit, which was hanging on the door, and put it on. After taking a minute to stretch, he caught sight of his old sweatbands sitting on his desk. He pulled them on before slipping downstairs in the darkness.

Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, someone spoke.

“Shingo, honey? What are you doing up so early?”

He whirled around. Behind him, dressed in pajamas with a mug of steaming tea stood his mother. Immediately, Shingo felt relieved.

“Haha, you scared me, mom!” He gave her his best smile. “I was just about to go on my morning run.”

She gave him a concerned look. “At 4:30 in the morning?”

Shingo let out an awkward laugh and averted his gaze. “Well, I woke up early and figured…” He shrugged.

His mother looked even more concerned. “I thought I heard you scream earlier.”

The smile faded from his face. He kept his eyes on her slipper-clad feet instead.

“I had a bad dream.”  
“Do you want to talk about it? I can make more tea.”

He did. He wanted to talk, let it all out, and put it behind him. But, at the same time, he wanted to forget it entirely. 

_I can’t tell her._

“It’s okay,” Shingo gave her another smile, more strained than the first, “I’ll feel better after my run.” 

Based on the look she gave him, she didn’t seem convinced. But, with a sigh, she said, “Alright. Be careful.”

“Thanks, mom. I will.”

Shingo exited into the chilly morning air. A rush of adrenaline filled him, helping his body heat up against the cold. 

First, he started with a light jog to warm up. However, unwelcome thoughts started to fill his mind.

The way his mother looked at him.

Kyo’s face in his dream.

His meltdown in front of Kyo.

Shingo broke into a run, feet pounding against the concrete roads.

No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t get away from his memories. Instead, he tried to focus on the burning in his legs and lungs. 

Vivid, carnal images cut through the pain in his mind. He ran faster. 

_Run._

With each step, his breathing grew more ragged. Darkness creeped into the edges of his vision. He didn’t care.

_Run._

His foot caught on a crack in the road. Even as his knees hit the pavement, one thought echoed inside.

_Run._

Shingo jumped to his feet. He passed his usual turn, opting for a road that would take him towards the countryside. 

_Run._

_Run._

**_Run._ **

* * *

For an hour, he ran like that, only stopping when he physically could not draw in any more air. He could barely feel his legs or walk a straight line. At least he wasn’t thinking about what happened anymore. All he could think about was how much everything hurt. A good kind of hurt.

Once he got home, he stretched on the porch, hoping to alleviate some of the soreness before his mother asked about his new limp. As he stretched, he caught sight of the sun just starting to rise. Vibrant orange stretched across the horizon, brightening the deep blue sky. Looking at it filled him with a sad longing, like looking at a cake you couldn’t eat. He wanted to enjoy this moment, to take pleasure in the beautiful scene, but something in him just couldn’t.

It twisted his heart in a way he couldn’t describe.

Shingo shook himself out of it and headed back inside. There, he heard the familiar clanging of kitchenware. The scent of hotcakes filled the house. His mother was still awake and making breakfast. 

She stuck her head out of the kitchen, “There you are! I was starting to wonder if you had gotten lost.”

“I took a longer route today.”

“Well… Don’t overdo it, okay?”

Shingo nodded.

She paused for a moment. If something bothered her, she decided not to say. “I just finished the hotcakes, if you want some.”

“Sure.”

He followed her into the kitchen. A huge stack of hotcakes sat at the center of the dinner table, golden brown and perfectly shaped. His mother grabbed a plate then asked, “Four or five?”

“Oh, uh, just one’s fine.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him before slipping the hotcake at the top onto his plate and setting it at his seat. 

“Would you like strawberries?”

“Ah, yeah!” Shingo’s face brightened a bit.

His mom piled strawberries onto his hotcake then prepared her own plate, sitting opposite of him at the table. They ate in silence.

Shingo took slow, methodical bites. Though he felt excited before, once the hotcakes touched his tongue, he couldn’t really taste it. There was a taste, of course, but it didn’t make him feel happy like his mom’s cooking should. It was the same sensation as looking at the sunrise; knowing he should feel happy, but not. Even the strawberries seemed dull in his mouth.

His heart twisted again.

“Honey?”

His mother’s hesitant voice caught his attention.

“If you don’t feel up to going to school today, you don’t have to.”

“It-it’s okay!” Shingo flashed a bright smile, “I feel fine!”

She looked worried but didn’t press it, “In that case, when you finish breakfast, go wash up.”

“Okay!”

* * *

Shingo looked at himself in the mirror, dressed in his usual school uniform. His sleeves were rolled down, partially covering his sweatbands. Without a headband, he almost looked like a different person, an average schoolboy. Certainly not a King of Fighters.

He practiced smiling until it didn’t make him feel sick and looked natural enough to fool his classmates. If he suddenly stopped being _stupid, idiotic, happy-go-lucky_ Shingo, people would ask questions. The sooner people stopped asking questions, the sooner he could put this all behind him. 

It didn’t matter that he never wanted to leave his room again. Staying away from school meant more questions. People asking “are you okay” or “did you get sick” or “what happened?” Questions he couldn’t answer. Not truthfully.

There was a knock at the door. His mom answered. Shingo could hear another familiar voice, but not what they were saying. Then his mother came up the stairs.

“Shingo! Are you almost ready?”

“Y-yes! One sec!” 

He snatched his school bag and opened the door. His mother waited on the other side, a wrapped box in her hand.

"Here's your lunch. Kushinada is here to walk you to school."

"Huh?!" His eyes popped out of his skull, "Ms. Yuki!?"

Sure enough, when Shingo descended the stairs, Yuki Kushinada, Kyo's girlfriend, stood in the entrance, stylish and ready for college.

She gave him a pleasant smile. "Good morning, Shingo."

"Ah, u-um, good-good morning!" 

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes! But, why are you…?"

"You live nearby so I thought we'd walk to the train station together," her voice was light, "Is that alright?"

He smiled as he rehearsed, "Of course!" Really, he wanted to say no so he could avoid as much human contact as possible, but that wasn't _Shingo_. 

_Get over it. You can't hide in your room forever._

"Mom, I'm heading out!"

"Take care!"

With that, they were off. 

At first, it was quiet and awkward. While the two were already acquainted, they didn't meet each other without Kyo, save for a couple times during his disappearance. It puzzled Shingo why she would suddenly start visiting him _now_.

_Does she know?!_

His grip tightened on his school bag. His mouth went dry.

"Lovely weather we're having."

Shingo looked at Yuki incredulously.

"In weather like this," she continued, eyes fixed on the clouds floating in the blue sky, "Kyo writes his best poems." 

During all the time he spent with Kyo, Shingo had only seen his poetry once, by accident. Kyo seemed pretty angry when he asked about it, so Shingo never mentioned it again. Thinking about it reminded him of… everything, which brought back feelings of anxiety.

When Shingo didn’t respond, Yuki glanced over and noticed the strained expression on his face. She sighed, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up. Something happened between the two of you, right? Kyo wouldn’t tell me.” 

_So… She doesn’t know?_

“Did he… What did he tell you?” 

Yuki shook her head, “Not much. He seemed worried and—oh!” She fished through her bag and pulled out a few familiar objects: Shingo’s wallet, notebook, and gauntlets.

“Kyo said you left these at his place. We were worried you’d leave early without any train fare.” 

Shingo took his belongings from Yuki. During the chaos of the past couple days, his mind had been so preoccupied, it didn’t even occur to him that he forgot his wallet. He quickly pocketed it before looking at the other two items.

His precious notebook, full of sketches of attacks and techniques, some his own invention. Sometimes, it even served as a diary or database of cool one-liners. The idea of opening it hurt somehow, so he put that away too.

Finally, the gauntlets…

_I can’t wear these anymore… I don’t deserve them…_

Shingo shoved them into his school bag. He would have thrown them away or given them back, but he didn’t want to make Yuki any more suspicious. While seeing them struck his heart with guilt, throwing them out felt the same. He’d decide what to do later.

“Thank you.” Shingo mumbled.

“You’re welcome.” Yuki replied.

Though they continued on in silence, Yuki didn’t seem bothered by it so Shingo tried to relax too. However, with each passing second, he felt more and more apprehensive about going to school.

* * *

Shingo and Yuki parted ways at the train station. Her college was in the opposite direction so she had to take a different train. 

On the train, Shingo passed the time worrying about school, ignoring the early morning crowd packed tightly around him. How would he deal with his friends there? How would he explain his absence? Would he really be able to make it to the end of the school day?

Each stop interrupted his train of thought as people pushed past him to get off or on. The feeling of bodies brushing against him brought a sense of awareness of how cramped it was, heightening his claustrophobia. His grip on the grab handle above him strained the nylon.

By the time they reached his station, Shingo found no answers to any of his questions. Instead, he had been instilled with a deep fear of the day ahead of him. Still, he moved forward. He had to.

At school, Shingo managed to slip into class without talking to anyone, but he knew it was a matter of time before some of his friends arrived. No doubt, they would try to talk to him. Maybe if he put his head down and pretended to sleep, they’d leave him alone.

Minutes passed. The sound of chatter grew as students filed into the classroom. Shingo listened for the sound of people he knew. The anticipation made the anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach worse. 

“Yo, Shingo!”

A breath caught in his throat.

“Wait, is he asleep?” Asked his friend Ren.

“Shingo! Hey, Shingo!” His other friend Kaito grabbed his shoulders and started shaking. “Wake up! Class starts in five minutes!”

With a yawn, Shingo pretended to wake up, leaning back while stretching out his arms. He gave his friends a tired smile, “Morning.”

Kaito got straight to the point, “Where were you yesterday?”

Immediately, Shingo tensed. This was going to happen, but he hoped it wouldn’t anyway. He cast his eyes to the ground, racking his brain for an answer as his friends watched on in ever-increasing awkwardness.

“I… got sick and spent the night at Mr. Kusanagi’s.” It was a bunch of half-truths, but his friends shouldn’t know that. Even so, he cursed himself for how obvious he was being. Only an idiot wouldn’t realize he was lying.

Kaito had a puzzled look on his face. “You still seem kinda sick. Maybe you should go to the nurse’s office.”

“Hey, he’s still recovering so don’t pester him too much,” Ren interjected, “but yeah, go to the nurse if you start to feel worse.”

“Yeah, I will.” _Thank you so much Ren._

The bell rang and Shingo’s friends returned to their seats. From there, Shingo went through the motions. He did as the teachers asked when they asked, but his mind was elsewhere. 

His thoughts were sporadic. They jumped between serious and mundane. One moment, he’d be thinking about Mr. Kusanagi. The next, how he planned to sleep right after school. He couldn’t focus.

However, his mind continued to linger on what happened _that night_. What happened to him. What he did.

How he laid there. Letting them do it. Letting them grope and lick and assault him.

He should have _fought_. He could have gotten out of those ropes. He could have beat all of them. For a while, he did fight. He pulled and squirmed against his bonds. He even headbutted an assailant’s nose in. But he gave up. 

Once one of those monsters _came_ inside him, he gave up. His will to struggle evaporated, the inevitability setting in. As they entered him, one by one, he did nothing. As they used his mouth, insulted him, wrote obscenities all over his body, he did nothing. 

A good disciple would have kept fighting. A good disciple would have escaped. A good disciple wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place.

Suddenly, there was a touch on his shoulder. Someone’s hand. Shingo panicked.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Everything blacked out. The next thing he knew, he was standing up. His chair laid on its back next to him. All around him were his classmates locked in silence. In front of him was his teacher, sprawled out on the ground clutching his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was gonna be one chapter until it started getting kinda long. I also wanted to update sooner rather than later.
> 
> On a lighter note, I had a dream where Shingo entered a race dressed like Athena Asamiya. There were checkpoints where it was required he drink milk. None of this seemed to bother him and he ended up winning. You go, buddy.


	5. Miscommunicating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Shingo's sent home from school, things get left unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit, huh? Sorry about that. Sometimes, the words don't come out, especially with this chapter. Still, I hope you enjoy.

The only sound in the staffroom was the rustling of papers from a light breeze traveling in through the window. Most of the teachers were working save for two. The first was Shingo’s homeroom teacher, a nice lady who was well-liked by her students. The other was the teacher Shingo decked across the face. He held an ice pack against the now purple bruise on his cheek. Both of them stood in front of Shingo, who sat in one of the swivel chairs.

Their stern gazes burned into him and he wanted nothing more than to shrink until he disappeared. His teeth ground together. He stared down at his fists clenched in his lap, shaking. At any second, he felt like he would burst into tears.

Hurried footsteps neared the staffroom. Shingo knew who they belonged to and shrunk further in on himself.

A knock. His homeroom teacher called the person in.

“Please excuse me.” Mrs. Yabuki said while opening the door. The second it clicked shut, she deeply bowed to the teachers. “I am so sorry for my son’s behavior!”

Shingo glanced up at his mother. He had never seen her bow like that. Knowing that it was his fault drove a knife of guilt straight into his heart. His actions humiliated his mother. She didn’t deserve that. He was the one who should be bowing and apologizing.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Yabuki,” His homeroom teacher spoke gently, “Shingo, please wait in the hallway while we talk to your mother.”

With his eyes glued to the floor, Shingo rushed out of the staffroom, avoiding his mother as he passed. He slid to the floor next to the staffroom entrance and rested his head on his knees.

He really did it. He punched a teacher. All because he let those bastards get in his head.

_ I let it get to me. I’m such an idiot. _

Pretending he was fine wasn’t going to work. Shingo knew that. All his friends told him he was a terrible liar. His only hope of turning things back to normal was taking all those terrible memories and burying them so deep down inside, they’d never surface again. 

_ Are you stupid? You’re not strong enough. _

He tried and tried and tried and tried to just forget. To bury it. Obviously, that didn’t work. He didn’t have the willpower or mental fortitude like Mr. Kusanagi, who took all of life’s traumas in stride.

Only his run that morning completely distracted him from those memories. Something about the rush of adrenaline and the burning of muscles kept unwelcome thoughts at bay. Maybe more training would feel the same. Whatever it took to forget.

A small part of him hoped things would go back to normal as soon as he pushed past this. But Mr. Kusanagi knew, which meant it never would. Being Mr. Kusanagi’s disciple became such a central part of Shingo’s life, he didn’t know what to do without it. More than that, Shingo liked to imagine they had become friends over the years. Now that was gone and it hurt.

His grip on his pants tightened as he pressed his face into his knees. It  _ really  _ hurt.

The staffroom door slid open and Mrs. Yabuki stepped out. When Shingo stood, he didn’t look at her.

“Shingo,” His mother spoke in a soft voice, “Your teacher is going to grab your bag and then we’re going home, okay?”

He nodded, not once making eye contact.

* * *

The drive home was excruciatingly tense. By the way his mother’s lips formed a tight line and by the crease in her brow, Shingo could tell she was upset. Not in an angry way but in a disappointed and concerned way. Neither said a word the entire time.

When they arrived home, sitting in the parked car, Mrs. Yabuki finally broke the silence.

“Shingo, why did you punch your teacher?”

He knew this was coming. Even if he had something to say, his throat constricted so he couldn’t speak.

“Both of them said you’re always well-behaved so they won’t punish you harshly, but why? This was so sudden…” She tried to meet his eyes, but he turned to look out the window at the house walls. 

Shingo wanted to tell her. Her warm hugs and coddling made him feel safer than anything else in the world. Yet, a deep fear held him back. A fear that she would reject him if she knew. On reflex, he clutched the fabric of his pants.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened this weekend?”

His whole body went rigid.

“...When you came home last night, I didn’t want to say anything because you were so upset, but what happened? Did somebody hurt you? I saw the burn marks on your wrists…”

Shingo clenched his teeth. He ran a hand over his sweatband on impulse. She was so close. 

“Did you fight with Kyo?”

His heart fell. 

“It wasn’t anything like that.” He whispered.

“Then what was it?!” His mother sounded desperate. He knew she didn’t intend to sound angry, but Shingo couldn’t help the hurt he felt. If she knew he was so upset, why’d she have to yell?

The tightness in his throat came back. He unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, making a break for who knows where.

Behind him, he could hear his mother shouting for him to come back. He ran faster.

_ Why am I acting like this?! _

He didn’t want his mother to find out, so why was he so upset? He should be glad! It would be better if she never knew! He was just causing more trouble for her by running away. 

Shingo tried to ignore the mess of emotions by focusing on the soreness of his legs, but he couldn’t escape them. Anger, guilt, disappointment, fear… He couldn’t get away.

The aching of his lungs overcame him and he had to stop. He fell against a tree in the corner of a local park he passed a few times on his runs. It was a several minute walk from his home, so his mother shouldn’t find him for a while unless she drove. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

She was probably even more worried about him now. Maybe even angry. What if she called Dad? He was still at work. If his father left work just to search for him, Shingo would feel even worse. 

The thought occurred to him that maybe she called Kyo. Somewhere, Kyo was rushing around on his bike, trying to find him. Or he wasn’t. Either way, it made him feel guilty and disappointed, which confused him so he tried not to think about it at all.

Shingo wished he could go back to that day. This time, he’d beat the shit out of each and every one of those bastards. This time, he’d make sure they never hurt anyone ever again.

Especially the one with snake-like eyes.

The thought of those leering eyes, that mocking voice, made him sick. He remembered all of Snake-eye’s degrading insults in perfect clarity. Those words haunted him each time he relaxed his guard even a little. A constant reminder of his weakness.

_ I hate him… _

Shingo turned to face the tree he had been leaning against. 

_ I’ll kill him… _

He adjusted his stance and raised a trembling fist.

_ I’ll kill them! _

With a roar, Shingo drove his fist into the tree. The bark ground into his skin. When he pulled away, chunks and splinters of wood dribbled to the ground; his strike was graceless but plenty forceful. 

Drops of blood pooled from countless little scratches covering his knuckles. Staring at it, feeling the pain from it, calmed the storm of murderous thoughts. It was different from the adrenaline of a heated battle. For a moment, Shingo just  _ was _ : No grief or anguish troubled him. 

Actually, he didn’t feel anything. A familiar emptiness had taken root, a black hole of emotion that drained him away. Somehow, it terrified him.

Shingo stood there for a while, staring at the barren spot on the tree he made. He didn’t think about anything. He just stewed in the surreal, frightening emptiness. The same sort of emptiness he felt that night. A kind of shock.

Rather than the emptiness being filled, it seeped out of him like thick sludge, revealing the emotions underneath. One overwhelmed them all: Exhaustion.

_ I just want to sleep. _

Physically, emotionally, and mentally, he was tired. The desire to sleep triumphed over the fear of returning home and facing his parents. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d be out searching for him. 

_ But I left my key in my bag so I’d have to wait for them anyway. _

With his head down, Shingo dragged one foot after the other towards home. A dark cloud of anxiety followed him, but he was too tired to acknowledge it. Still, his mind wandered without him.

_ What will mom and dad say when I get there? They’ll probably be angry at me for causing them more trouble.That’s all I’ve ever done; cause problems for the people around me. I’m just a burden to my parents. They’d be better off without me. _

Shingo stumbled on his own feet. That thought stung.

_ They hate me. It’d be better if I just disappeared. _

It hurt. He didn’t want to be hated by his parents, but how could they love him? After the way he acted, he couldn’t believe they still would.

His thoughts turned into a brutal cycle.  _ There’s no way they love me. I should just disappear. Disappear. Disappear… _

By the time Shingo reached his home, he was trembling and on the verge of tears. He hoped he could just sleep and deal with everything later.

With his injured fist in his pocket, he used his other unsteady hand to turn the doorknob. It was unlocked. 

Shingo peered inside. He couldn’t see or hear anyone from the entrance, so he took the chance to quietly slip inside, out of his shoes, and up the stairs. Once he locked his bedroom door, he flopped onto his bed.

Not long after, there was a knock at his door.

“Shingo?”

_ So dad did come home from work… _

“Can I talk to you for a bit?”

When Shingo didn’t respond, Mr. Yabuki kept going in a gentle voice, “If you don’t want to right now, that’s okay. I just want you to know that you can talk to us about anything, alright?”

Shingo dug his fingers into the bedsheets.  _ I  _ can’t _ talk to you about this. _

“...I’ll leave your lunch by the door. I have the rest of the day off, so if you need anything, your mother and I will be downstairs.” Mr. Yabuki left, his soft footsteps fading from Shingo’s hearing.

_ Dad took time off work and it’s my fault.  _ Shingo’s grip on the sheets tightened. His lip quivered.  _ I’m the worst. _

He flipped over and buried his face into his pillow, smothering his tears. How often was this going to happen from now on? Was he going to freak out everyday, burdening the people around him with his issues? Would he be haunted by those  _ horrible, painful _ memories every moment of his life? Maybe if those memories just hurt him he’d find a way to push through, but they were driving him to hurt others. He couldn’t just  _ pretend _ the consequences away.

Shingo laughed bitterly. Just one more thing to pile onto his overflowing plate. He felt like an idiot for letting this all get to him. Burying it all, throwing it out, whatever, should be  _ simple _ . Why couldn’t he do it? 

It must be his own weakness, an inherent part of himself. Not physical, but mental. In his life, the greatest hardships he had been through were his near-death at the hands of Iori Yagami and that harrowing time when Kyo disappeared. Those experiences did little to prepare him for this.

People often told him he was very expressive and energetic. Maybe that was it. He exerted no control over his emotions before and now they were running rampant. If he knew how to rein them in, he would have already.

There was too much happening for his mind to process, so it all ground to a stop. He felt even more exhausted now than before he came home. The anxiety still gnawing at his stomach wasn’t strong enough to keep him awake any longer. It was an unstable peace, but it was enough to let him rest.

As Shingo drifted to sleep, he had a brief thought that maybe it’d be nice if he never woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter more than this one. I might write another interlude as well, since those are pretty quick. Either way, hopefully I won't take too long this time.


End file.
